


Rest

by kriadydragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriadydragon/pseuds/kriadydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tag for "With all my Heart" so lots and lots of spoilers. Exhaustion was inevitable, but this was more than exhaustion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

“Merlin has collapsed.”

Gaius glanced up at Leon looking breathless and harried as he stood in the doorway. As there were merits to being an old man, there were also merits to being a physician, such as the ability to look immediately professional and worried rather than giving in right away to surprise. Otherwise Gaius' lack of alarm might have raised suspicions. 

Because Gaius wasn't surprised, not in the least bit, because Merlin collapsing had not been a matter of if, after all, but a matter of when. Gaius quickly gathered his kit and followed Leon from the chamber. 

Merlin was remarkably resilient, even for one possessing magic. But with all that had happened, between constantly keeping up with Gwen's machinations, being poisoned and injured barely over a week ago (and not getting proper rest after. Merlin could argue that a good night's sleep did him a world of good but the shadows under his eyes, his persistent limp and his general listlessness had begged otherwise), having aged himself twice with the addition of a transformation spell and then summoning the White Goddess... lords, it was a miracle the boy could still stand. It had only been the other day that they had returned from cleansing Gwen, and though Merlin had crashed the moment he was in his room (Arthur being kind enough to give him the rest of the day off) he had been on his feet only a few hours later, helping Gaius whether Gaius had liked it or not – which he mostly hadn't. 

A small, spiteful part of Gaius thought, _serves the boy right_. Merlin really was rather terrible when it came to allowing his body time to heal; always needing to be up and about, as though the next threat were just around the corner. Which was why another, larger part of Gaius couldn't blame the poor lad. Sadly, the next threat often _was_ around the corner. And if those threats weren't keeping Merlin up at night, denying him the rest he sorely needed, then they were getting him to skip meals or run about expending energy he didn't have. 

Well, no more. Merlin was getting rest whether anyone liked it or not.

Leon brought Gaius to the location of the collapse – the king's chambers, also not to Gaius' surprise. Then they entered, and Gaius' steps faltered. 

Merlin was huddled against the wall, legs up, forehead pressed to his knees and a rather large and foul-smelling puddle of sick only a foot away. Gwen, the real Gwen, _their_ Gwen, was doing what only true Gwen would do – kneeling next to Merlin and rubbing his back while speaking soothing words to him. Each of Merlin's inhales made him shudder, and each exhale was accompanied by a low, piteous moan warning that he was liable to be sick again at any moment. Arthur was standing off to the side, arms crossed and glaring at Merlin. 

Gaius was surprised. Surprised and alarmed. He had expected exhaustion, he hadn't expected illness. Knowing how draining the aging spell alone would be, Gaius and Merlin had found a way to tweak the transformation magic to lessen the burden of having to maintain so much power. Face, voice and mannerism was all that had been altered (and even then it had been an experience Merlin swore up and down that he never wanted to go through again, and that if he did he was taking it out on Gaius by enchanting his leeches with wings), but apparently both Gaius and Merlin had underestimated the potency of such a combination coupled with summoning a Goddess. 

It was possible that it was a miracle Merlin wasn't _dead_. The thought nearly made Gaius shudder.

“Gaius, the idiot's been drinking again,” Arthur said, his voice like a slap pulling Gaius harshly from his thoughts. Good, because he needed to focus. He hurried over to his ward and lowered himself with a creak of old bones and a grunt in front of Merlin.

“I hope you learned your lesson, Merlin,” Arthur went on. “Serves you right, really.”

“Arthur!” Gwen admonished.

Arthur shrugged, nonplussed. “He brought it on himself, Gwen. I'm starting to suspect he spends more time in the tavern than Gwaine does...”

Gaius tuned him out, focusing on Merlin's dark head. He extricated an arm from where it was clenched against the boy's stomach as though it were possible to hold in the contents. The hand was shaking and pale. When Gaius pressed his fingers over the blue veins of the wrist, he felt the pulse thready and fast. And as if that wasn't enough, the skin was clammy and uncomfortably warm.

Arthur's voice continued to drone on and on about the evils of haunting taverns so gratuitously. 

“Merlin, can you lift your head for me?” Gaius asked.

Merlin did so, slowly, shakily, his bloodshot eyes squinting against the light and his breath catching from pain. A headache then, too. He was pale verging on gray, darker beneath the eyes and the very picture of misery as he begged Gaius without words to, please, just make it stop. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he lurched to the side. His body convulsed, heaved and choked as it added to the puddle already on the floor.

Arthur sighed. “Lovely, something else for you to clean up once you've sobered. Really, Merlin, do I have to send out a decree to every tavern banning you? Because I will. It might actually make you useful if I did that, come to think of it--”

“Sire, would you please stop!” Gaius snapped. It surprised even himself to hear it, a surprised reflected in Gwen's sudden discomfort and the way Arthur, wide-eyed, clicked his jaw shut.

But if Gaius was meant to feel guilty, should worry about being thrown in the stocks for such impertinence, it wasn't happening. He felt nothing but irritation, concern, fear, and all that mattered was Merlin still heaving with nothing left to purge. When finally finished, Merlin began to slump and would have ended up face first in the mess had Gaius not caught him and eased him upright.

“This is not the result of too much mead,” Gaius said, his voice calm but sharp. “He has a fever. We need to get him back to my chambers so that I can treat him properly. Help me get him up.”

Leon hurried forward to do just that, and after a bewildered blink Arthur soon added his own strength to the effort. He had an arm around Merlin's chest and a troubled look on his face.

“His heart is racing, Gaius. What's wrong with him?”

“A stomach ailment, I imagine. I'll know more once I've looked him over more properly.” 

They must have made quite a sight – the king and a Camelot knight half-carrying, half-dragging a servant between them, with the queen close by at the ready with the recently cleaned chamber pot, and Gaius leading the way. But even on reaching Gaius' chambers Gaius didn't have them stop until they were in Merlin's room. Once Merlin was lowered onto the bed, barely staying upright, Gaius shooed them out with a gentle promise to let them know of Merlin's state once Gaius had checked him over. Gaius barely made it back in time to Merlin's side to keep him from toppling over.

“Sry, Gaius,” Merlin slurred, wobbly even with Gaius mostly supporting him by the shoulders. “Was feelin' fine th's smornin'.”

Gaius pressed his lips into a thin line, then removed Merlin's jacket and helped the boy struggle out of his shirt.

It had always been a suspicion of Gaius' that Merlin often worked magic without realizing it; that the reason the boy was able to go on for so long, to give into exhaustion only when he was home and knowing everyone was safe (or as close to safe as possible) was because his magic could act not unlike adrenaline, giving Merlin the energy he needed when adrenaline itself wasn't enough. He had once asked Merlin about this, and though Merlin had been intrigued by the idea he had no way of knowing if this was the case other than the fact that exhaustion always seemed to hit him the hardest when he was home. 

Gaius peeled the red shirt from Merlin's body and grimaced at the collection of bruises splashed across his back and ribs. Gaius had thought he was going to have a heart attack when Merlin had told him about the spill from the cliff. Thank goodness Merlin had been carrying all those supplies, the only explanation other than a bit of subconscious magical intervention as to how Merlin didn't end up with a broken back or, worse, dead. 

Gaius made sure to pat Merlin on the unbruised part of his shoulder. “It's not your fault, Merlin. Although I do wish you would take more time to rest. Your magic may help you endure but you're still human. Your body can only take so much for so long.” He helped ease Merlin onto his side for the time being, needing to fetch various remedies and a salve for the bruising. 

Merlin had gained much physical strength over the years – inevitable when your job included lugging armor about and carrying heavy supplies. But Merlin was still such a slender, lanky lad, most especially when compared to the knights. And shirtless while lying on his side he looked small, almost frail. He was also starting to shiver.

Gaius moved quickly gathering the needed supplies – the salve, the potions and a bit of mint to help the stomach. He moved just as quickly, but gently, plying Merlin with various treatments then coating his back with the paste that would aid him against the bruising and pain. Once done, he sat Merlin up, helped him into his nightshirt, then eased him back onto his side and covered him with his blanket.

Merlin, already tired and made more so by the tinctures, was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Gaius sat on the edge of the bed, watching Merlin sleep. Lords, even prone with his eyes closed the boy looked bone tired, as though his exhaustion went far too deep for sleep to touch. Gaius rested his hand on Merlin's head, ignoring the dampness of it and the clamminess of the scalp underneath. Merlin was warm, but not burning up, which was a good thing. As long as the fever didn't climb then Merlin would be fine, eventually.

Merlin did so bloody much for this kingdom.

With a sigh, Gaius left his ward to his sleep to go and prepare more medicine. 

Arthur was waiting for him downstairs, standing and trying rather poorly not to look anxious. It was not a surprise, but it did make Gaius pause briefly on the steps before moving on to his work bench. 

“He's resting,” Gaius said, collecting what he needed to make those tinctures that would bring down the fever and calm Merlin's stomach. “Although it may be a few days before he's able to work.”

“He can take all the time he needs,” Arthur said soberly.

Gaius nodded. “Thank you, sire.” Then, “I must apologize, sire, for taking such a tone with you earlier.” Even though he was not yet sorry and doubted he ever would be. Propriety demanded an apology, that was all. 

“No, Gaius, don't,” Arthur said with a wave of his hand. “You have every right to your frustration. I had foolishly misjudged the situation and was acting the buffoon because of it.”

The sound of a chair scraping pulled Gaius from his mixing. He turned, raising an eyebrow at Arthur now slumped in a chair, his arms on the table, hands clasped, and his gaze distant. 

“I don't know why I thought he was drunk,” Arthur said. “I've seen him when drunk, Gaius. That man can barely handle a single tankard of mead. He was perfectly fine when he came in. A little wobbly after a while but not even remotely drunk. Then he dropped – just dropped, Gaius. Like a puppet with its strings cut. And what's my first thought? That he's drunk despite all evidence to the contrary.” Suddenly, his eyes widened and he looked up at Gaius fearfully. “You don't think it's because of the cliff? I've known men who sustained injuries and seemed fine until... they weren't.”

It was a rare thing to see the young king look so helpless, but he was looking it now, and Gaius realized with much softening that Arthur had been afraid – honestly afraid. And when afraid, Arthur did one of two things – grab the nearest sword and fight what frightened him, or pretend – hope, even – that the situation wasn't as serious as it seemed. 

Smiling reassuringly, Gaius shook his head. “No, sire. I checked him thoroughly and any hidden damage would have manifested sooner.”

Arthur frowned severely. “That crone. She did something--”

“No, sire. The... er... Dorma is not known for her cruelty. She would not help one merely to hurt the other. This is merely just an illness of the kind anyone could fall prey to at any time.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “But... he will be all right,” he said. 

“The fever is not high,” Gaius said. “As long as it does not increase then he should be fine.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Arthur said. He stood. “Please let me know if there is any change.”

“I will, sire.”

Arthur left, Gaius watching him go, his frustration with the king now a distant memory not worth pondering over. Gaius finished making his tinctures and took them to Merlin's room to put them within easy reach. Merlin was curled on his side, and Gaius was happy to note that he actually looked relaxed. He felt Merlin's forehead. The fever hadn't changed, and it wouldn't for another day or two, but that it hadn't increased remained a promising sign. He adjusted the blanket so that it covered Merlin's shoulders. After another quick touch of the boy's head, Gaius left him to his long-needed and well deserved rest.

The End


End file.
